Ordinary language is all right.
One could divide humanity into two classes:
those who master a metaphor, and those who hold by a formula.
Those with a bent for both are too few, they do not comprise a class.
'I am convinced that we do not only love ourselves in others but hate ourselves in others too.'
- I don't have any pictures of you, I said. I'll be sad when we're not together anymore and I don't have any pictures to remember you by.
- Then I won't give you any pictures, she said, so you can't break up with me.
Now, no her, and no pictures.
I wrote little this year, most of it ephemeral even to me. But when the year is done and gone there will still be some entries I return to fondly:
- nine notes on Law and Order
- 'Some Things to Note About Robert Creeley'
- notes on Menippean satire, Pynchon's V., and two notes on satirical elements of V.
- baby steps into Adorno
- artistic form of jokes, the promise of beauty
I'll return to them fondly because they'll serve as reminders of the writer I wanted to be (but did not yet prove to become, as my meager production attests), and they'll serve as places from which to begin thinking again.
What exactly do I think I would do if she did call?
'When these painful contradictions are removed, the question as to the nature of force will not have been answered; but our minds, no longer vexed, will cease to ask illegitimate questions.'
A fall breakup, again.
'They have lost the capacity of their predecessors to do anything in common.'
'as though a kiss were a cheap thing'